I Thought I Saw a Rainbow
by Virgo Writer
Summary: Ash wants to confess his feelings, but fears rejection, and when he finally finds the courage to tell Misty how he feels she mistakes his romantic confession for something else completely. Now Ash has two things he needs to confess and the words 'I love you Myst and BTW I'm not gay' just won't cut it. AAML
1. Red

Here's a bit of a romantic comedy I've been working on, and I decided to put the first chapter up just to see what people thought of it before started putting a bit more effort into it.

**Summary**: Ash's feelings are weighing heavily on his heart, but a fear of rejection is holding him back. However, when he finally finds the courage to tell Misty how he feels, things only get worse when she misunderstands his ineloquent words. Now Ash has two things he desperately needs to get off his chest and the words 'I love you Myst, and btw I'm not gay" just aren't going to cut it.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon, or the rainbow, and the definitions come courtesy of the webster dictionary.

I Think I Saw a Rainbow - Red

Red_ (n). _a colour whose hue resembles that of blood or of the ruby or is that of the long-wave extreme of the visible spectrum.

_Red._ The colour of love. The colour of passion, at least that's what people told him.

Passion was something Ash had in abundance. He was passionate about Pokémon, about battling, about food . . .

But lately that passion had been dwindling, and everyone noticed. It was the reason why his friends had gathered around him in a seemingly spur of the moment get together and why Gary had insisted on an impromptu battle.

And it was the reason why Ash had lost that battle.

And so Ash sat on his porch in the early twilight, staring at the darkening sky. His thoughts had not been on the battle, and they hadn't been on battling for a while now. Instead they had been on the girl that sat beside him on the porch steps enjoying the cool summer evening.

"Ash, what's wrong?" she asked him softly, her tones heavy with concern.

Ash sighed heavily. It was now or never. He had to tell her. He had to get this feeling out in the open before it consumed him, even if it meant the end of their friendship.

"Misty," he started hesitantly, his voice shaking. "There's, I mean, there's something I have to tell you."

His redheaded best friend offered him a warm smile that urged him on. God she was beautiful, she had to be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The way the last tendrils of sunlight set on her flaming red hair was wreaking havoc on his nervous system. If there was a heaven for Ash, she was it.

"Misty, I've got a secret I've been keeping inside of me for years," he admitted to her, watching her carefully as he spoke, "only lately I've been feeling like I can't keep it buried in there much longer and it's become such a part of me that I don't know what to do about it.

"I've tried to keep it hidden," he said almost painfully. "I've tried to stop feeling the way that I do, but I realize now that I can't change the way I feel. I want to tell you everything Myst, but I'm so afraid of what I'll lose and getting hurt if I tell you the truth. But it hurts to keep it in and I feel like everything inside of me is fighting to let it out.

"I just-" he began, pausing to collect his thoughts. He took her hands in his as he continued. "I'm so scared that if I tell you what I've been feeling all this time, that things will change between us, and even thought I have these feelings, I don't want to lose you as a friend Myst."

Misty's expression was unreadable throughout almost his entire dialogue, but as the final words left his lips, he could have sworn he saw sadness flash through her sea green eyes.

"It's ok Ash," she told him softly, smiling even thought all she wanted to do was cry. She knew she had to be strong for her friend, to prove to him that his decision did affect their friendship. "I understand Ash," she told him, "you don't have to say anything more."

She leaned forward, and gently brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth. "Ash you're my best friend, and I love you-"

Ash felt pleasantly warm at this admission, pleasantly surprised that his feelings were returned and that she had understood everything he had been feeling for so long.

"-and that's not going to change all of a sudden just because you're attracted to men," she finished, gently squeezing the hand that was entwined with her own.

Ash was stunned into silence, but Misty continued unabated. "Ash, I completely support your lifestyle choice and I don't want you to ever feel as though you ever have to be ashamed of who you are. We all love you Ash, and this doesn't change that fact." Her voice was soft and genuine, and Ash could tell that she meant every word, which really just made the whole thing worse.

He tried desperately to correct her and explain what he really meant, but as he moved his mouth no words came out. All he could do was sit there gaping at his best friend as the words 'I DON'T LOVE MEN! I LOVE YOU!' screamed in his head.

"I can see you've still got some stuff you need to come to terms with," she said, offering him another sympathetic smile as she stood up and straightened her skirt. "Shall I go get Brock? I'm sure you'll be wanting to tell him now too."

Ash just nodded dumbly – it was all he could manage in that moment. She leaned down and kissed his forehead before heading back inside. A few moments later Brock was on the porch to take her place.

"What's up?" Brock asked with a nod of hello. "Misty said you had something important to tell me?"

It was then that Ash finally found his words, his shock more than evident. The look on his face as he turned to face his older friend said it all. His eyes were dark with frustration, his mouth hung open in surprise and his brow crinkled with worry. "She thinks I'm gay," he said aloud, not quite believing it himself.

"What?!" Brock exclaimed, chocking on the drink he had been languidly sipping at the time. "I thought you were finally going to tell her you had feelings for her. What that . . .?"

"I did," Ash protested. "At least I think I did," he conceded, looking down as he thought back to what he said. "I was telling her how I was keeping my feelings secret because I was afraid to lose her if I told her my secret-"

"But did you ever actually say 'Misty, I love you'?" Brock interjected.

"Well no," the younger boy admitted, his brow burrowing further. "I was getting to that part and then she stopped me. And now she thinks I'm gay!"

Brock laughed loudly at Ash's words, but was silenced by a hard look from his friend. He couldn't help but think that Ash and Misty were the only people who could screw up a confession this badly.

He offered a weak smile as he tried to comfort Ash as best he could. "Look it's fine, Ash," Brock promised him. "It's just a little misunderstanding. I'm sure we can work it out."

"There's nothing 'little' about it," Ash muttered darkly. "The girl I love thinks I like men! How am I supposed to tell her I love her now?" he asked desperately.

"You could always tell her that she 'turned' you," Brock suggested with a shrug. "Girls always love that."

"You're not helping," Ash moaned, throwing his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry Ash," Brock replied. "It's just a lot to take in. But I'm sure we can use it to our advantage. Just leave it 'til morning, and we'll talk to the guys, and we'll sort it all out somehow."

Red. The colour of love. The colour of passion.

You know what else it was the colour of?

Embarrassment.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .

Yes. Well.

A strange one obviously. Bit of weird place for me to put the confession, but as you can see it did not go well. I was sort of inspired by a fic I was reading with a vaguely written confession scene and as I read it I couldn't help but think that it sounded like Ash was coming out of the closet and I had desperately hoped that this was the direction that story was going, but seeing as it wasn't I decided to use the misunderstanding for myself.

Let me know if you think I should keep going with this one. Next chapter: Yellow (yes I know Orange comes first, but no one said it had to be in order so :P).


	2. Yellow

Wow. There seemed to be a lot of positive response to the first chapter, which was somewhat unexpected. I didn't think that many people would be interested in seeing this sort of fic, but I'm glad you are. So here is chapter two. It's a touch angsty in parts, but I think there's still a bit of humour in there. Thanks for all your reviews and enjoy.

Also, if you're enjoying this fic then I think you'll really enjoy Setting him Straight by vaurapuung, which is in my favourites. Similar sort of humour although a somewhat dodgier situation.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. Nor do I own rainbows.

I Thought I Saw a Rainbow – Yellow

Yellow _(n.)_ a colour whose hue resembles that of ripe lemons or sunflowers or is that of the portion of the spectrum lying between green and orange.

_Yellow._ Yellow was the colour of cowardice, and that's exactly what Misty was right now – a coward.

Rather than face anybody after Ash's confession, she calmly disappeared up to Ash's room, only stopping to let Brock know that Ash needed to talk to him. And when she was sure that she was far enough away from everybody; that was when she let herself cry.

The tears streamed mercilessly down her face. This was the thing she had feared most for all these years . . . well, not exactly but it was a similar species.

The thing she had feared most had been that one day Ash would find love with someone else and she would be left alone. Sure she would be happy for him because he was her friend and because she loved him, but it would kill her all the same. This was something akin to that fear, only rising out of entirely different circumstances.

Ash was gay. He liked men, which was in itself something which offered the smallest amount of relief – at least if he was gay there was no chance of losing him to the likes of May and Dawn. Instead she'd be losing him to . . .

Misty paused briefly as the thought occurred to her – who was Ash's type? She had never been able to work out the answer in relation to women, because he didn't really seem to show any romantic interest in any of the girls they met – the reason for that was now terribly obvious. She tried to think back to the various people they had met along their journey and wonder where the spark had been ignited.

Her first thought was Gary. Maybe all the tension and rivalry between them was really just sexual tension on Ash's side. Ash was always trying to impress Gary in some way or the other, at least in the beginning. Obviously he didn't have those same feelings now, and the whole thing was completely one-sided given that Gary had successfully pursued more women than Brock had unsuccessfully pursued, but that at least narrowed it down to a type.

She tried to work out how she would feel in the unlikely event of Ash and Gary actually becoming some sort of couple. Gary was certainly attractive, and the two would probably make a very nice looking couple, but she couldn't help but feel concern over the way that Gary often treated Ash. Even though they were technically friends, Gary often seemed to have no qualms in taking advantage of Ash's trusting nature and she hated the idea of her friend being in such a relationship.

Gary would not do at all she decided, but she felt as though she had to find someone for Ash in order to show him that she really did support his decision even though it broke her heart.

The tears came back full force with that determination. She collapsed onto Ash's bed and cried into his pillow, the scent of him that engulfed her both harrowing and comforting.

It was in this renewed fit of tears that she heard the door slowly open and soft foot falls making their way to the bed.

_'Please don't be Ash,'_ she thought irrationally to herself. She knew the sound of Ash's gait by heart, and in spite of her silent wish, she knew it wasn't him.

"Misty, what's wrong?" a concerned motherly voice asked, gently placing a hand on Misty's shoulder.

The young redhead immediately sat up and threw herself into the arms of Delia Ketchum.

"I feel so terrible," she admitted sadly sobbing into Delia pink blouse as she accepted the comfort that the woman offered her. "I love him so much."

"Misty," Delia said softly, rubbing the girls back comfortingly. "It'll be alright."

Misty nodded her head. "I know it's not his fault," she sobbed, "but I can't help but feel mad at him for being gay."

Delia stiffened at the words. She knew Misty's feelings, and her declaration of love could only reference to one person. But he couldn't be . . . her son, her baby boy . . . he couldn't be . . . _gay_?

The girl in her arms gasped as she felt Delia's reaction to her words. "Oh god," Misty gaped. "He hasn't told you, has he? Oh I'm so sorry, Delia. I just assumed that you already knew . . ."

"No it's ok Misty," Delia comforted, "it's just . . ." the words died in her throat and the two of them were both consumed by tears, falling into one another's arms as they grieved the imagined futures that each of them had lost.

There would be no spring wedding at Oak's plantation between the red head and her Pokémon Master. There would be no brown eyed, auburn haired children running around Delia's garden. There would be no white picketed home where the two would grow old together.

Their dreams had been severed to an inevitable end and all they could do was grieve for something that had never truly been theirs.

Hope was a terrible thing to lose.

* * *

Ash smiled wanly as he said goodnight to his friends and headed upstairs to his room. He felt completely drained by his attempted confession and its unexpected consequences, and now all he wanted to do was sleep until morning and pretend that none of it had even happened.

Pushing his door open with his foot, he was surprised by the sight that greeted him. There on his bed sat the two most important women in his life, embracing one another as tears fell down their faces.

"Mom? Misty?" he asked, his eyes clouding with worry. "Are you ok?"

The two looked up at him in shock. They had been so absorbed in their own thoughts and feelings that they hadn't even noticed him enter.

"I-I sh-should leave you two alone," Misty said as she stepped up from the bed giving Delia an understanding smile and Ash one of encouragement. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug and affectionately kissed his cheek. It was strange how much more affectionate she had been since his admission, even if it was only half an hour ago.

"I'm sorry Ash," she told him sincerely. "I didn't think. I didn't mean to let it slip."

"Let what . . ." he began to ask, but trailed off as he realized by the look in his mother's eyes exactly what she had told his mother. He shuddered involuntarily.

"I'll let you guys talk," she said quietly, leaving him with his mother.

"So Ash," his mother began, taking a deep harrowing breath. Her face was completely blank, although she forced a strange strained smile onto her lips. "You're homosexual."

Ash's whole body seemed cringe inwardly, as though it were trying to retract into some sort of shell. Those were four words he never thought he would hear his mother use in a sentence, and he wished she would take them back.

"Mom I'm-" Ash began, but Delia cut him off.

"Of course, dear," she said with that same odd smile set on her face. "It's 'gay' these days, isn't it?"

"It's neither," Ash tried to explain. "It's just a misunderstanding mom. I really wish Misty hadn't told you."

"You mean you didn't even want your own mother to know that you were-" she paused, somehow unable to say the words this time. "That way inclined," she said instead, her voice breaking from the strain of uttering the allusion.

"Mom, that's not what I meant," Ash tried again, but Delia wouldn't have any of it.

"When were you going to tell me Ash?" she asked accusingly, her hands clasping and unclasping over her lap in an agitated fashion. "Did you ever plan to tell me? Or were you going to just let me spend the rest of my life dreaming of my beautiful little red headed grandchildren that would never be?"

"Mom, you're honestly overreacting," he insisted, moving towards her as his gestures became stiff and contrived. He didn't seem to notice her comment on the most prominent feature of her imagined grandchildren. "It's not what you think."

"Ash you don't have to lie to me," his mother told him, her eyes filling with sad tears as her anger was replaced with sorrow. "I'm you're mother Ashy and I'm going to love you no matter what."

"Aww, I know you love me mom," he told her as he sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "But you don't have to be ok with this. I'm not gay. Misty's just got the wrong end of the stick."

"You promise Ashy?" she asked him, her eyes practically begging for his words to be true. "You promise you're not gay?"

"I promise mom," he replied to her, giving her a tight squeeze. His mother seemed to relax noticeably at that and gently urged herself off of his bed.

"All right Ash," she told him softly. "I believe you."

"Mom," Ash said as she was about to leave, offering her one last word of comfort. "I just want you to know that if I really was gay, it would be ok you weren't alright with it, and I wouldn't want you to pretend."

"Ok Ash," Delia said, closing his door softly as she made her way down to the kitchen.

She needed something – something that would make it all go away.

It was yellow. A soft, lemony coloured liquid that filled her glass and numbed her brain for the time being.

Her son was gay.

And his last words only confirmed it.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .

Well Ash certainly made things worse for himself.

Next chapter: Green.


	3. Green

Once again, wonderful response! Thanks everyone who reviewed and everyone who put this on either alert or favourites. I bring you all more torture for Ash. Sorry this chapter is a short, but the next is rather long and it's just the way that things have gotten split according to the colours. Might be a while 'til next update as I like to write one ahead and Ch5 is causing me some drama.

On that note - keyblader1991 you were close with your guess for green but not quite.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pokemon, or rainbows, or the definition.

I Thought I Saw a Rainbow – Green

Green (_n._) a hue of that portion of the visible spectrum lying between yellow and blue, evoked in the human observer by radiant energy with wavelengths of approximately 490 to 570 nanometers.

_Green._ Green best described the sickly nauseated feeling that was emanating from his stomach as he and his friends sat around trying to discuss the best the way to take back an inadvertent confession of unexpected sexual preferences.

Brock, Tracey, Gary, Drew . . . wait DREW!?

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ash asked the grass-headed young teen who sat amongst his best friends as they discussed his problem.

Drew just shrugged and flicked his hair. "People like me," he replied simply, and that was the most he would without breaking the wall.

"Fine you can stay," Ash muttered in reply, "but what the hell is _James_ doing here?!"

"Excuse me," a strange violet haired older man asked from where he was sitting clad in a tight pair of black jeans and an almost flamboyantly purple dress shirt. "If anybody knows _anything_ about people thinking they're gay, it's me," James professed.

"What do you mean 'thinking'?" Gary scoffed, eyeing the purple shirt with disdain. No self-respecting hetrosexual male would be caught in something so overtly _gay. _Not that Gary could really talk given his original trainer attire, but he liked to think that unlike James, he was just manly enough to pull it off.

"Yes thinking," James replied pointedly. "I'll have you know that I've been in a committed heterosexual relationship for the past seven years."

"Seven years?" Ash asked in surprise and awe. "That's almost as long as you've been following us around. How could you have a relationship when you busy stalking us across the Pokémon World with Jesse and Meowth?"

"Are you serious?" Tracey asked. "Do you mean to tell me that all this time you never even noticed that him and Jesse were getting it on?" he asked Ash, his eyes widening in disbelief. "That was pretty much the first thing I noticed when I met you guys.

"You really are dense Ash," he finished with a shake of his head.

Ash scowled. "I was kind of preoccupied," he muttered lamely as they all gave him a rather knowing look. "Give me a break," he begged of them. "It took me six years to work out that I liked Misty and even then I was convinced it was just gas."

"Ash you're pathetic," Gary muttered. "I don't know why I'm even agreeing to help you out of this mess. I vote we do nothing and I go back to Ash's to comfort Misty," he suggested with a smirk.

"Don't even think about it Oak," Brock told him dangerously. "The only reason you're involved in this was because I thought you might be able to help, not so that you'd have the ammunition to finally seduce Misty and get bragging rights over the 'Sensational set'."

Gary scowled at him. "You're just jealous because you couldn't even get Lily to go on a date with you, and everyone knows she's twice as easy as her sisters."

Ash groaned in annoyance. "Can we please forget about Misty's sisters and focus?" he complained. "I'm in the middle of a freakin' life crisis here! Now does anyone have any _good_ idea's on how the hell I'm supposed to tell Misty I'm in love with her when she's pretty much convinced that I'm gay?"

They all fell into a thoughtful silence – even Gary, although maybe that was because he was still thinking about how he could use Ash's mistake to his own advantage.

"I have an idea," Drew admitted, finally breaking the silence, "but I'm not sure how much you're going to like it."

* * *

Misty and Delia sat silently at the kitchen table, staring silently at the patterns of the lace tablecloth. Two cups of tea sat in the middle of the table untouched.

Finally Delia stood up from the table, making her way towards the fridge. She pulled a glass bottle from the freezer and poured about a centimetre of the clear liquid into to two lowball glasses. She silently placed one down in front of Misty and sat down with the other.

Misty gave her a confused look and Delia just shrugged. "I think we could both do with a stiff drink right now." Misty nodded in agreement and sipped her drink, coughing slightly as she wasn't used to taking her vodka straight.

"I can't believe I didn't see it sooner," Misty sighed, slowly sipping the beverage. "I mean, now that it's all out in the open, it's so clear. What with Gary, and Ritchie, and Todd, and some guy called Paul that Dawn told me about . . .

"Oh my gosh," Misty gasped almost spitting alcohol all over the kitchen. "I bet you he had a thing for Rudy! I bet that's why he was getting so angry. This whole time I was thinking maybe he was jealous and really liked me or something, but the whole time he was like . . . _lusting_ after Rudy.

"Oh god," Misty cried, becoming increasingly frantic. "I bet Rudy was gay too! All the dancing, and the hair flipping, and the pants that were unnecessarily tight. I bet you all the guys I've ever showed any interest in whatsoever are all gay.

"I turn men gay! All of them! All I have to do is look at them and think that they're mildly attractive and suddenly they go from straight to gay.

"And now Ash is the biggest homo of them all because I was so in love with him!" Misty moaned, throwing herself face down on the table and covering her head with her hands. "I ruined Ash!"

"Misty calm down," Delia told her, placing her hand lightly on Misty's shoulder. "I'm sure you had nothing to do with. He was probably like this long before you met him," she insisted, trying her best to hold back tears. "If its . . . if anyone did anything, it was probably me."

"I broke my Ashy!" Delia cried desperately. Her voice rose in pitch and she began almost rambling at a fast pace. "I bet you it was all my mothering. He never had a male influence and I used to take him into the ladies room when we went out because I was so scared he'd get taken. I probably scarred my boy for life and turned him into a . . . a _homosexual_.

"Oh I should have known," she sobbed, pulling Misty towards her. "This is all my fault."

And so the two sat alone in the kitchen, the silence now filled with the sound of their tears.

* * *

_'Oh great,'_ Ash thought to himself as he entered the house via the backdoor. _'They're crying again. Guess that means Mom didn't believe me.'_

The two stirred at the sound of his footsteps and looked up at them in shock.

"What's wrong?" he asked them even though he didn't want to know the answer. It didn't really matter because he knew they wouldn't tell him the truth.

"Misty was just telling me about her pet growlith that died when she was little," his mother lied quickly. It was an obvious lie; the Waterflower's would be the last people in the world to own a fire-type.

"Yeah," Misty confirmed shakily, not meeting his eye. She was a terrible liar, and she knew it. "Really sad story."

"Oh," Ash replied, pretending to believe it. It was easier than trying to deal with the real reason they were crying.

It was bad enough that they thought he was gay, but did they really have to take it so badly? And did they really have to lie about it and pretend like they were ok with it? He was getting sick of walking into rooms and finding the two of them collapsed in tears.

"You know what," Misty said, forcing a smile onto her face. "I think we should do something. Just the two of us."

Ash smiled back at her. He liked the sound of that. Just him and Misty alone with no one around to bother them. He could take her somewhere nice and tell her loved her all over again, and actually get it right this time.

But then what about the plan? The plan was brilliant. The plan was flawless. The plan was fool proof.

And then it was back. That sickly green nauseated feeling was curling in the pit of his stomach.

What a warning not to heed?

. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .

Ash is so fun to torture. Also, I realize that some parts may come off as anti-gay but it's really more anti Ash being gay (which I have no problem with if you can write it convincingly (although probably only if it was Gary or Ritchie - just a side issue there because bouldershipping makes me giggle, and I reckon Paul is just an ass), but clearly Misty and Delia ain't taking it too well). Hope y'all liked that one.

The next chapter will be brought to you by the colour Indigo . . . and it's a doozy . . .


	4. Indigo

Hiya. I was hoping to update once I finished Blue, but I'm finding that chapter hell to write so I'm going to update in spite of myself. This one is pretty long, so hopefully that will tide you over for what will sadly be a long wait 'til the next update.

Now, this chapter is necessary for any gay farce, so there may be a few cliches in there, but hopefully I've done them in my own unique way.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokemon. I do not own the colour purple. I do, however, own Brock's business slogan - you'll understand when you get there.

I Thought I Saw a Rainbow – Indigo

Indigo _(n.)_ a hue falling within approximate 420 to 450 nanometres resembling a dark blue to grayish purple.

_Indigo. _Indigo was the colour of many things. For Ash it was synonymous with the Pokemon League, and Pokémon, and almost every adventure he ever had.

And right now it was the colour being meticulously spread over his freshly clipped, pampered and buffed fingernails.

"Misty, I really don't think this is the right colour for me," Ash strained, looking over towards his best friend who sat beside him, chatting animatedly to her manicurist. Her nails were painted a far less overtly feminine shade, while his were just screaming the word '_gay_'.

"Ash, we discussed this earlier," she replied with a shake of her head. "You're a winter, so dark shades like indigo are perfect for your complexion."

Oh why did she have to put it like that? Why did she have to say it like it was something that he should inherently know?

He was starting to regret his choice. Misty had been of two minds between a facial and a manicure, and left the decision of their day activity up to him. Having no idea what either actually entailed and thinking that a manicure sounded the least feminine of the two – after all, it did have the word 'man' in it – he'd opted for having his nails done. Had she phrased the choice as what it really was – washing your face vs. _having your nails done_ – he would have chosen differently.

Ash didn't know what was worse: the fact that he now had dark purple splashed across the tips of his fingers, or the fact that she said he was a winter like he knew what that meant. Regardless Ash shuddered involuntarily and averted his eyes.

"Done," his manicurist smiled and led him towards the drying racks. God he hoped this stuff wasn't permanent.

Misty sighed as she watched Ash be seated awkwardly on a stool and forced to place his hands delicately under a heat lamp. A slight smile graced her lips as she realized that no matter what, he was still going to be Ash and that was relatively reassuring to know. Well almost, because if he would always be Ash, then she would always be in love with him and this whole unrequited business was just something she was going to have to learn to live with.

Jenny, Misty's own manicurist, shook her head and 'tsk'ed quietly at Misty's actions. "I recognise that look," Jenny explained when Misty looked at her questioningly, "and as much as I hate to be the one to stomp on love, it's hopeless given your situation."

"I know," Misty sighed. "Why on earth did I have to go and fall in love with a gay guy? Maybe I should just accept Gary's offer and forget about him. He's ruined me for all other men. Stupid, perfect, gay Ketchum."

Jenny laughed at her exclamation. "You know, my friend Lisa was in almost the exact same situation," she said with a weak smile. "When you think about it, I'm sure there's some good things about it. Just try and look at the bright side."

"Yeah," Misty said in a strained fashion, forcing herself to return Jenny's smile. "I mean, I've never really had a girl friend before, and Ash _is _my best friend. I've finally got someone I can talk to about boys and stuff."

"Exactly," Jenny agreed. "You guys could go shopping or something. You could go bra shopping, you know, get his opinion on things like that. The sort of things people would do with their girl friends."

"You're right," Misty said as Ash returned and she paid for their treatments, a determined smile on her lips. "Thanks for the advice Jenny," she told the manicurist before turning to Ash. "Come on, we're going shopping."

"Such a shame," Jenny sighed as she watched the couple leave. "Guess it's like they say, all the best men are either taken or gay."

"She's a lucky girl," Marian, the girl who had treated Ash to his indigo hell, agreed.

"Not exactly my thoughts," Jenny replied, giving her an incredulous look.

"Well, I mean, he's madly in love with her. I'd call that lucky," Marian replied, returning Jenny's look.

"What do you mean 'madly in love'?" Jenny asked. "He's gay. Misty told me so herself. And she loves him to bits. I'd call that my own personal hell."

"Oh," Marian said slowly. After a few moments silence she continued nervously. "I'm pretty sure he's not gay. I mean, not a hundred percent or anything, but definitely ninety-five. He's either straight, or the dumbest gay man in history of creation."

Jenny just raised an eyebrow in her direction and urged her to continue. "He asked me whether paint thinner would get off the varnish, or whether he needed to buy something special. I told him anything with an alcohol base would do," Marian shrugged, "and he asked me whether beer would be ok or if it needed to be something stronger like vodka."

Jenny looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "Well I'm sure she'll work it out for herself soon enough. I told her to take him shopping."

"How does shopping tell her anything?" Marian asked incredulously.

"Two words," Jenny said simply. "Lingerie shopping."

* * *

"Misty," Ash whined as his best friend dragged him through Victoria's Secret – a place he only knew of thanks to Brock and his stimulating collection of catalogues – picking up various items as she went. "Isn't this the sort of thing you have your sisters for?" he asked desperately.

"My sisters?" she asked him, her eyes narrowing. "Like I'd trust those hos to tell me what looked good. They'd let me walk out of the house in jean shorts and red suspenders if it gave them even the tiniest advantage.

"Oh wait, they _did,_" she finished sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she dragged Ash towards the changing stalls. "Just wait here, and I want you to give me an honest opinion when I come out."

Ash gulped conspicuously as she entered the changing room, lowering himself hopelessly into the seat as directed. He quickly dialled Brock's cell in the hopes of some sort of salvation.

_"Viridian Breeders,"_ Brock answered cheerfully. _"Helping Pokémon get laid since 3016."_

Ash rolled his eyes. He was not currently in the mood for Brock's sick sense of humour (and the obvious irony in Brock professing to be helping Pokémon get laid when he was practically (A/N: I'm feeling generous) incapable of bedding a woman himself) and got straight to the point. "Brock I've got a problem," he whispered into the phone, glancing worriedly at the cubicle Misty was enclosed in.

_"What is it?"_ Brock responded, sounding almost serious.

"Do you have James' phone number?" he asked desperately. Brock made a sort of 'harrump' noise, and Ash tried again. "What about Drew's?"

Brock was clearly not impressed. _"I'm sure I'm perfectly capable of helping you with anything _James_ could handle,"_ Brock replied huffily. He made no mention of Drew, as they were all very much aware that the sixteen-year-old Hoenn native's experience excelled their own.

"Fine," Ash muttered in acquiescence, but only because he was pressed for time – who knew how much longer Misty would be in there for. "Misty's brought me shopping."

_"And?"_ Brock pressed, not seeing the immediate problem with this statement. Oh, if he only knew the drama that had befell his young friend.

"_Underwear_ shopping," Ash hissed, urgently trying to convey the seriousness of the matter. "She's gone to try something on, and I'm pretty sure she's gonna want my opinion when she comes out."

Brock just chuckled, completely incapable of seeing the graveness of the situation. _"You lucky bastard,"_ he laughed. _"I don't know why we didn't think of this sooner."_

"_Lucky_?" Ash demanded, but shook his head rather than waiting for a reply. "Don't have time. What do I say?" he asked quickly, his eyes trained on the door and watching for any sort of movement.

_"Just say whatever comes to your head,"_ Brock answered calmly. _"She thinks you're gay so whatever you say she'll interpret in that light. You can say whatever you like now – you're in the perfect position."_

"Seriously?"

_"Seriously,"_ Brock confirmed. _"Just remember the plan ok? Say whatever you like, but do try to control your self. You just need to keep fooling her for today, and then we can straighten everything out."_

"Whatever," Ash replied. "Wah! She's coming. Gotta go," he finished quickly as he slammed shut his phone and jammed it into his pocket.

He tried to relax himself languidly on the chair, and look like he had just been waiting for Misty's return, picking up a random magazine that was laying nearby as his alibi.

"What do you think?" Misty asked, forcing him to look up from the latest issue of _Glamour_.

Ash gaped at what he saw. Misty was standing before him clad in nothing but her jeans, and lacy black bra with pink-purple satin underneath.

_'What do I think?'_ Ash asked himself in awe. _'I think I've just died and gone to heaven. In fact, I think I could die right now and be quite happy because life ain't getting any better than this.'_

As he recalled Brock's words, he knew exactly what to say to her. He repeated to her the very thoughts that had flown thought his head, word for word and with absolute sincerity.

Misty blushed noticeably and shyly diverted her gaze. "Ash, you're so sweet," she giggled and gave him a quick hug.

In the brief instance of that embrace, several thoughts flashed through Ash's head. They went as follows:

_'She's blushing. Remember what Drew said about blushing? He said a girl likes you if she blushes. _

_'I bet Gary never makes her blush,'_ his thoughts continued ruefully in remembrance of conversations from earlier that day. _'Stupid Gary._

_'What the heck? How can I can I think about Gary at a time like this? Maybe I am gay. For christs sake! Misty's like half naked and pressed against me and . . . shit! C'mon brain – think about Gary, think about Gary._

_'Dammit! Why is it so hard to think about Gary!?'_

_'Oh right,'_ he finished, reminding him self of the obvious answer to that question. And thus concludes the various thoughts that passed through the mind of Ash Ketchum before Misty detached herself from her best friend, the blush darkening on her cheeks.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him as she noted the frown across her friend's features.

"Gary," he responded automatically without censoring his reply.

Misty raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Not like that," Ash replied quickly, making a disgusted face. That was the truth, but now he had to come up with a lie regarding why he was thinking of Gary. "Gary wants me to buy his Camaro," he told her, which was also technically true, although Ash hadn't really thought that much about it.

"Why would you want Gary's old car?" she asked him curiously, tilting her head to the side. The action made her hair brush against her bare shoulders and only served to remind Ash that she was standing in front of him with nothing but a rather skimpy bra to cover her.

"Well, I guess I was thinking that if I had a car then it would make it easier for me to come see you," Ash admitted bashfully. "And Gary offered to sell me his."

"That makes sense," Misty shrugged. "But it's a bit of a gas guzzler – it's going to cost you heaps on road user taxes. Why don't you get something more environmentally friendly, like hybrid or something? Maybe a Prius?"

Ash made a face. "I don't know. Don't you think it's a little . . ." Ash trailed off as a single word came to mind to describe the sorry excuse for design, hybrid sedan that she suggested – gay. Not that he could describe it thusly without arousing suspicion. " . . . uh . . . unmanly?" he offered instead.

Misty giggled and her laughter made him smile in return. "Well excuse me Mr. Ketchum," she teased, swatting his shoulder playfully. "How was I to know that you were such a _connoisseur_ of cars?"

"C'mon Misty, admit it," he replied, "you only like the Prius because it's all girly."

"I like it because it doesn't deplete limited resources," she replied pointedly. "Not to mention the amount of co2 emissions something like Gary's Camaro is leaking all over the place."

"Bleeding heart liberal," Ash scoffed reproachfully, sending her a teasing smirk.

"Like you can talk _rainbow child_," she replied. She gasped as the words left her mouth, wishing she could take them back. Ash just gave her a confused look and she was grateful that he hadn't understood what she was alluding to.

"Anyway," Misty continued awkwardly in an attempt to divert their conversation. Finally realizing how little she was wearing, she had the decency to try and cover her self a little. "I think there's like a matching thong or something –"

"No!" Ash cried, cutting her off. It had been difficult enough to control him self in her current state, but he knew that a thong would most definitely be the death of him. "I mean . . . uh . . . it'll probably make your butt look flat?" he finished quickly, hoping that was the sort of thing that a gay guy would say. He'd have to check with James at some point.

"I never thought of that," she answered, looking convinced by his statement. "See Ash, this is why I need you around for this sort of thing. I'll go change, and maybe we can go grab some lunch?" she suggested with a smile.

Ash nodded as she turned her back on him.

_'Hmm,'_ he considered thoughtfully to himself. _'Maybe being gay isn't such a bad thing.' _

* * *

Like most days with Misty Waterflower, the two ended up on a beach with a package of fish and chips between them, and an ice cream sundae in Misty's possession.

"He's cute," Misty said nonchalantly, gesturing with her spoon in the direction of some blonde surfer type currently exiting the ocean. He was very lean and tall, and had long blonde hair that flopped in front of his bright blue eyes.

Ash raised an eyebrow in her direction. He didn't really look much like Misty's type, mostly because Ash was secretly hoping that he was Misty's type. In fact, the guy looked like a blonde version of Gary, which made him somewhat agitated.

Misty rolled her eyes at his expression. "Not for me, for you," she explained.

Ash's mouth fell open at that, and he tried desperately stop his mouth from curving into a disgusted grimace. "I . . . uh . . . I don't think he's really my type," Ash forced himself to say, resisting the urge to gag on his own words.

"Oh really?" Misty asked, seemingly unconvinced. "Then who is your type?"

_'You,'_ he answered silently, however such a response would not bode well with the 'the Plan'. Instead he said, "some redheads are cute," which was an honest reply, except for the fact that by 'some redheads' he meant just one in particular.

Misty seemed to be in deep thought for a few moments before questioning him on his fondness for her kind. "You mean like Sparky?" she asked.

"Who?" Ash replied, genuinely confused as to who she could be referring to.

"From the 'Eevee Brother's'," she responded. "Mickey's brother."

"Oh I remember Mickey," Ash said cheerfully, forgetting the reasons why Mickey had even been brought into the conversation. "I bet you he's got an espeon now – don't you reckon? That or an umbreon."

"What about Danny?" Misty asked, continuing on the assumption that Ash was just trying to divert the conversation and not genuinely distracted by the thought of Pokémon. "Danny was _gorgeous_," she added dreamily. Misty seemed to pay little heed to the fact that Danny was only mildly ginger (and reminded some people of Kinomoto Fujitaka from CCS for no apparent reason).

"S'pose," Ash muttered reproachfully as old feelings of jealousy that he had buried at the time resurfaced. Next thing he knew she'd be going on about how _charming_ Rudy was or that movie star guy with the stupid name.

"Aw, Ash stop being such a sook," she teased, bumping her shoulder against his. "This is supposed to be fun you know – talking about guys and stuff."

And there it was, the perfect opening for phase one of Drew's ultimate plan. It was brilliant, it was fool proof . . . well, provided you didn't have a sufficiently talented fool, but that's an entirely separate matter.

"All right, Myst," Ash said, forcing some joviality into his voice. "Tell me what sort of guys you like?"

Misty blushed at his question, because simply put, she didn't like guys. She liked 'guy', as in the singular and not the plural. But if Ash was making the effort, then she could too. She'd just have to be subtle about things.

Right. Subtle.

Ash silently congratulated himself on managing to make her blush once again.

"I . . . uh . . . I guess I like the . . . uh . . . tall, dark and handsome type," she replied awkwardly, watching her companion from the corner of her eye in the hopes that he wouldn't realize that he tended to match that description. Although he had been a shrimp when they were younger, a growth spurt finally kicked in around Ash's mid-teens and he was about 180cm tall now. And his black hair and chocolate brown eyes would be sufficient to classify his features as dark. And there was no denying that Misty had always thought of him as handsome.

"Pfft," Ash shrugged. "I meant the important stuff. What exactly is your perfect guy like?"

"My perfect guy?" she asked smiling sadly. "He's probably about as far from perfect as you can get, and I'd be the first to tell him so. He's loud, and impulsive, and he isn't the least bit romantic. He makes stupid decisions, and sometimes he's so full of himself that I want to whack him over the head with something really hard."

She sighed deeply before continuing her description. "But then the rest of the time he's sweet, and caring, and funny as hell. He makes up for it all in compassion, and bravery, and determination, and selflessness that would put even Mother Teresa to shame."

"Wow, Myst," Ash gaped, his voice soft as he absorbed her words. "I guess you really like this guy."

"I do," she sighed, her voice breaking with emotion. "More than he'll ever know."

"Do you love him?" he asked her, holding his breath so as not to betray his own emotions. She nodded slowly, closing her eyes as she felt the tears build up behind her eyes. "Does he love you?" he added, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"No," she replied, "and he never will. He doesn't even know how I feel, but I guess that's just something I'll have to learn to deal with."

"How do you know if you never told him?"

"Because," Misty began, her voice faltering. She turned her head so that Ash wouldn't see the emotions playing on her features – the emotions that would surely give her way. "Because he told me something that precludes us ever having that sort of relationship."

"Oh," Ash said quietly sitting in silence. Very slowly, he reached towards her and took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers. "I'm sorry, Misty," he told her gently. "I'm sorry he doesn't love you."

"It's ok Ash," she shrugged, forcing a tiny smile onto her face. "It's not your fault."

"I know, but . . ."

"I know," she said cutting him off. "I know."

* * *

Ash could no longer contain his emotions as he went to meet Brock and Tracey at Professor Oak's lab in order to update them on the most recent developments. His emotions were written all over his face, and that was enough to tell them that phase one was complete.

"Why are you looking so happy?" Brock asked with a knowing smile as he greeted Ash at the door.

"Oh you know," Ash smiled. "The usual. It's a beautiful day. Everything is right with the world. And Misty is _definitely_ in love with me."

"Definitely?" Tracey asked to which he received a very enthusiastic nod from Ash. "Well good. It seems phase one was a success."

"Hey Ash," Gary nodded as he joined them in the entrance. "What's that on your hand?" he added, his tone laughing and derogatory.

Ash looked down and scowled, his bright mood suddenly darkened.

There it was, plain as day, an omnipresent reminder of his ordeal.

_Indigo._

. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .

And there you have it, Ash Ketchum summed up in ten words or less: he's either straight, or the dummest gay man ever. This chapter was a fun one to write.

Apologising in advance for up coming delay. I'm gonna go try write something, but I'm not sure my odds. Everything I've put down has sounded so contrived and I want to get it right.

Next chapter: Blue.


	5. Blue

Uh . . . hey. I'm sure you're all wondering what the hell happened to this story. You see, I had Blue planned out, and then I realized the idea suck and so I have been spending some time trying to rework Blue and thus Violet and Orange. But I'm back onto it now, and my exams will be over in a few weeks giving me lots and lots of time to write. Right now, however, I am procrastinating, and thus posting Blue for you all to enjoy :). It starts a little depressing, but I tried to keep it quite light in the middle to make up for it.

And for those of you waiting on Arc two of Ash:The Last Stand that's coming along too. I've written three full chapters (although one of them is out of order) and am most of the way through the third chapter, although I'm kind of stuck on that one at the moment. The point is, I'm hoping to start posting that one before the new year so keep watching I guess.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. Nor do I own rainbows. As far as I know, no one has patented the colour blue, but obviously that is going to be a bit of an issue when we come to Violet.

I Thought I Saw a Rainbow – Blue

Blue (_n._) a colour whose hue is that of a clear sky or that of the portion of the colour spectrum lying between green and indigo. Shades include azure, periwinkle and _cerulean_.

_Blue_. Of all the pigments on earth, blue was certainly the most symbolic. It evoked a whole plethora of meanings, emotions and images unique to each context and individual. In art it could mean anything from purity to life force.

But it also had a more commonplace meaning, something beneath the aspirations of high art. Blue was many things to many people: melancholy, sadness, depression, sorrow, unhappiness, regret . . .

Misty was blue. In fact, she was very blue. She was so blue, in fact, that she had spent the last few days doing something that she hadn't done in years; she cried. She cried until she had no tears left and until sadness no longer had a meaning.

There was nothing bluer than tears.

The tears were the worst, because she didn't want to be crying. She loved Ash to pieces – he was her best friend after all and that certainly trumped any romantic attachment – and she knew that he wasn't fooled by whatever story she told him to cover them. She was hurting him.

But it was all too much. She had tried. She had tried harder than anyone else and she wanted so badly to support him through this, but it was more than she could take.

The love of her life . . . the only one who would ever mean so much to her . . . it was hopeless.

Her eyes dulled, and the false smile she had been carrying all day dropped off her face in an instant. "I'm sorry," she said softly, unable to even meet his eyes. "I can't do this anymore. I just can't."

And that's when she ran, racing out towards the midnight blue darkness and away from everything. The feeling in her chest could mean many things, but as she heard him call her name, she knew only one word could describe it.

_Guilt_.

* * *

Disclaimer: the author does not endorse the following views put forward by Gary Oak and maybe even a few of those from James

* * *

~ Earlier that day

Today's lesson was flirting, which Ash didn't think was entirely necessary. After all, yesterday's excursion had confirmed that Misty was in fact in love with him, and flirting was all about getting someone to like you. All the same, Gary and James took their job as teachers very seriously.

Gary was in charge of teaching Ash how to flirt; as there was really nothing in the world that Gary Oak was better at than flirting. Weaving women into his web came very easy to Gary, and he thought it only fair to impart a few words of wisdom onto his childhood friend. Brock took notes.

James was in charge of teaching Ash how to interpret flirting from the opposite sex. James, if nothing else of use, understood women, which was a handy skill to have when you found yourself ensnared by such a woman as Jessica Abrhams who could be sent off into a frenzy at even the slightest slight. It was important to know the warning signs, as well as early forms of prevention.

"Flirting, for women," James began, doing his best impression of a professor, "is all about physical contact. Light touches, caresses, even slaps – except in your case Rock boy –" Brock looked downhearted at being singled out "they're all some form of flirting."

"So, whenever Misty whacks me over the head, that's flirting?" Ash asked sceptically, not really believing James in spite of his apparent expertise.

"Yep, that's class A flirting that one," James responded.

"And when she strangles me?" Ash continued.

"Definitely flirting."

"And when she pokes me?"

"Flirting."

"And when she grabs my arm 'cause she's scared?"

"I find it hard to believe that a girl like Misty is truly afraid of anything, and so in that case I would say that is very deliberate flirting," James replied nonchalantly, blowing on his French tipped fingernails.

"And when she grabs me by my shirt collar?"

"So flirting it's not funny."

"And tries to clean my face?"

"My god!" James exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "That girl has pulled every trick short of throwing herself at you and kissing you senseless, and you're only just realizing now that she's hopelessly in love with you. Here I was trying to give you some credit, but you really are as dense as they say you are!"

"You're being ridiculous," Ash responded, shaking his head at them. "Because if all that is flirting, that would mean that Misty's liked me since . . . since the third day of my journey when we got lost in the Viridian forest and that's just . . . ridiculous."

"Exactly what is ridiculous about an eleven year old girl following after the boy she has a crush on, in spite of him telling her on numerous occasions to get away from him?" Brock asked smartly, smiling smugly to himself at Ash's shocked expression.

"But she said she was following 'cause of the bike I broke," Ash told him.

Gary scoffed from a couch nearby. "And it never – in all these years – occurred to you that maybe she was – I don't know – _lying_ to you, Ketchum?" Gary asked derisively, laughing loudly. "You are even dumber than I thought you were, Ketchum. I have no idea what she see's in you."

"Whatever, Gary," Ash muttered his eyes narrowing dangerously in Gary's direction. "You're just jealous 'cause Misty is in love with me, and nobody likes you." So mature Ash.

"You're lucky she is," Gary answered with another scoff. "She must have a very high threshold for stupidity."

"Take that back!" Ash demanded, stalking angrily towards his childhood friend. "Misty is perfect, and don't you ever try to insinuate otherwise."

"Big words, Ash," Gary said, appearing completely nonplussed by Ash's chivalrous display.

"Yadi yada ya," James cut in blandly. "Gary's an asshole. Misty's perfect. And you're still stupid, Ash.

"Moving along," he continued, pointedly gesturing for Ash to return to his seat. "Now women, like anything else, come in different types, and it is important to know what sort of type you are dealing with."

"Why?" Ash questioned. "I don't really care about anyone other than Misty, so why does all this type stuff matter?"

James rolled his eyes.

Tracey sighed sympathetically. "It's like Pokémon training, Ash," he said kindly, hoping the right analogy might get Ash interested in the subject. "They're like type trumps, and you've got to match the right attack to the right Pokémon or its just going to end in disaster. I mean, you wouldn't go and put Pikachu against a golem, would you?"

"Uh . . . no," Ash answered awkwardly, looking sheepish and glancing at Brock and Gary in the hopes that neither would say anything. "Of course not."

Silence . . . then . . .

"Oh god, you did. Didn't you?" Tracey gaped, continuing before Ash had the chance to correct the bandana wearing Pokémon watcher by revealing that it was actually Pikachu vs. Brock's onix and thus worse that Tracey thought. "That's it," he cried exasperatedly. "I'm giving up. This is completely hopeless.

"Ash, I would not wish your particular breed of stupidity upon my worst enemy, let alone Misty, who is one of my best friends," he said quite seriously. "I can't be a part of this. Even if they do get together, they'll probably end up killing each other within the first five minutes due to his idiocy and her rashness. I will not be a party to a double homicide."

"Tracey, you're being dramatic now," Brock cautioned, trying to stop him from walking away. With Ash's stupidity to contend with, they needed just about as much help as they could get. "Be reasonable, it's not nearly as bad as that. I know that apart, they've got everything against them, but together they're kind of perfect."

"I used to believe that, but now I'm not so sure," Tracey sighed, dropping down to the seat near Gary. "It shouldn't be so hard to get two people together. Maybe this is fates way of telling us to give up, find him someone else.

"Hey, Ash. What about that Melody girl we met in the Orange Islands?" he suggested, perking up a little. "I've still got her number somewhere if you want it."

Ash made a face. "The one with the shell?" he questioned with disdain. "She smelt like mothballs and kept trying to put her hands in my pockets. She said they were cold."

"Your pockets or her hands?" Gary asked with a snort, an image of some old lady trying to molest his old friend giving him a good laugh.

"She never said," Ash replied in a small voice.

"How about Duplica then?" Tracey suggested. "Worst case scenario, I bet she does a great impression of Misty."

"Because that's not creepy at all," Brock said sarcastically, "although technically it's her profession. She does an almost convincing Nurse Joy, and for fifty bucks more she'll switch to Officer Jenny half-way through."

"People focus!" James cried dramatically, almost sobbing at his lesson falling to shambles. "Tracey, we've come too far to give up now. Brock, next time you come up with a nice little titbit like that, do us all a favour and keep it to yourself – I find it very disturbing, and only mildly arousing.

"Gary, seeing as we're on the subject of women, and that seems to be your forte," he said with a note of sarcasm, "I think I'll hand the rest of this lesson on to you."

"It's about time you blue-headed-freak," Gary muttered as he happily pushed himself out a chair and stood proudly before the 'class'.

He smirked at Ash and began his lesson. "I think we've all established so far, that Ashy-boy here is an idiot, but that in spite of his obvious shortcomings, Red is head-over-heals, crazy-in-love with him for reasons that none of us can comprehend short of mind control, and some form of mental retardation on her part."

"Oi!" Ash cried, stepping to his loves defence once again. They could all call him a moron as much as they liked, but Misty was off-limits.

"Yeah, yeah, Misty's perfect," Gary muttered, waving his hand in a gesture of indifference. "That doesn't make her fascination with you any less confounding."

"Did you have a point?" Ash asked darkly.

"I was getting to that," Gary drawled, returning Ash's glare. "The point is, just because she loves you doesn't mean she's yours for good, and I'm assuming that we're aiming for long term goals here?" he asked, glancing at James and Brock who both nodded assent.

"The thing with women is – and this applies to all women regardless of type so don't start me on that bullshit – women are above all else, fickle," he explained with a sense of finality. "One day they'll want a sweet guy, the next they'll want a jerk, then they'll want a smart guy or a rich guy. They're fickle, end of story."

"Well, thanks for the les-"

"Did I say I was finished?" Gary asked with a raised eyebrow. "You don't realize how lucky you've got it, Ketchum," he said, letting some of his jealousy show. "The girl of your dreams practically falls into your lap, and she loves you despite of every good reason she has not to."

There was a softness in Gary's voice and features for a moment, but it quickly faded. "So you better not screw it up," he said harshly. "There are three things you need in order to get and keep any girl, and three things only.

"Are you listening, Ash? Because I'm only going to say it once. You need . . .

* * *

Moving on from lessons, it was time for phase two of the aptly named 'plan'. Drew had left them to their lessons, not really seeing their value, but he had returned to show the true way to a woman's heart.

The plan – as Ash was constantly telling himself – was perfect. Well almost, because to finish the plan they had to get Misty and Delia out of the house, which was near impossible given that the two females had been doing nothing since his 'revelation' but drinking vodka and crying about how they had 'ruined' him.

Professor Oak had offered (a little too quickly for Ash's liking) to take Delia out to dinner, so that just left Misty.

"I'll do it," Tracey and Gary offered simultaneously, glaring at the competition.

Ash grimaced at their enthusiasm. "Uh . . . thanks, but I was really hoping-"

"What do you mean 'you'll do it'?" Tracey cut in, almost sneering at Gary. "Like she'd want to go out with a sleazebag like you."

Gary scoffed. "I've got a better chance than you, bandanna boy," he responded. "I'm sure she's just been waiting for the opportunity to go to dinner with some whimpy little Pokémon Watcher.

"Misty's looking for a_ real _man," Gary continued. "Not some sensitive little dweeb who wants to draw her picture."

James and Drew scoffed automatically.

"Uh . . . Brock?" Ash asked hopefully, looking to the breeder to step in.

"I wish I could help you, Ash," Brock replied, looking suspiciously at the two that were now fighting for the opportunity to take Ash's prospective girlfriend out to dinner, "but I've got an appointment with . . . eh . . . someone and she has one hell of a penalty if you cancel."

He studied Gary and Tracey for a moment, trying to determine which of the two would amount to the lesser of evils. Brock had always suspected that Tracey might have been interested in Misty, but Ash had always stood unwittingly in the way of pursuing that interest. Gary, on the other hand, was simply interested in anything with two x chromosomes out of a set of twenty three pairs, that he could happily acquaint with his own DNA, and underneath everything else, Gary was still the selfish little boy who wanted the thing his rival had, even if he had a perfectly good alternative availed to him.

Brock sighed. If he was in Ash's shoes, he would much rather send Gary, mostly because he knew that as hard as Gary might try, Misty would always resist his advances. But that was it exactly; Misty would _always _resist Gary's advances because she would see extending anything more that friendship towards Gary Oak as a betrayal of her love for Ash. There was no way she would willingly leave the house in Gary's company.

Tracey would have to be it, but not out of preference. Sending Tracey worried Brock because he knew that Tracey would do as an alternative Ash – they had similar dark eyes and hair, and Tracey seemed to be endowed with some of Ash's more attractive personality features such as his sensitivity to the needs of others, love of Pokémon, and genuinely caring nature. He didn't like the thought of handing Tracey the opportunity to finally pursue his interest in Misty – it was apparent from earlier outbursts that Tracey had given up on 'Ash and Misty Love' and no longer saw the dark haired Pokémon trainer as an impediment.

But Brock didn't speak a word of this, because in the end they needed Misty out of the house, and anything else looked rather suspicious. Even Brock taking her out so suddenly would raise Misty's suspicions, and so that left them with one option – Tracey.

"As much as I know it pains you to hear this, Gary," he said aloud, grimacing at what he was about to do, "there is nothing in this world that could compel Misty to accept a date from you. At least Tracey has somewhat of a chance."

Tracey grinned broadly, which did not bode well with Brock, or Ash, or James for that matter. Drew was indifferent, and Gary pissed.

Brock shuddered, glancing at the bandanna-wearing boy with a sense of foreboding. A chill ran through his body, and even as he tried to convince himself of the plan and it's general perfect-ness, the feeling would not leave him.

Because deep down, he knew how this evening was going to end.

Sad blue-green eyes.

A blue tear trailing down her cheek.

And a blue-back night full of nothing but sadness.

Blue was many things to many people: melancholy, sadness, depression, sorrow, unhappiness, regret . . .

But in the end . . . there was nothing bluer than tears.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .

Sad either end, but happy in the middle. Will probably update on the 11th, maybe sooner depending on how good my procrastination gets. Well . . . better go study now.

Next chapter: Violet.


	6. Violet

Inspiration did strike early, and 'I Thought I Saw a Rainbow' is unofficially completed! Thus I'm updating a whole week earlier than I first intended, but it's ok because I have a whole week to study the reasons why it's not good to steal from the people who hire you - yes, apparently you do need a course to tell you that.

That aside, here is violet!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. I do not own certain chocolate companies alluded to who have two factories in New Zealand and neither of them actually make chocolate (they make PINEapple lumps). I don't own the colour violet (please refer to previously mentioned chocolate company). I don't own apple, or any affiliated products. I don't own . . . hmmm . . . I think that's it . . . for now.

I Thought I Saw a Rainbow – Violet

Violet _(n.) _the hue of the short-wave end of the visible spectrum, evoked in the human observer by radiant energy with wavelengths of approximately 380 to 420 nanometres; any of a group of colours, reddish-blue in hue that may vary in lightness and saturation.

_Violet_. Violet was a regal colour, the kind of colour that you associated with luxury and rich things and chocolate if you were that way inclined (and willing to risk litigation). For Ash it was his least favourite colour. It seemed to ride the boundary between pink and indigo and to Ash seemed like the most unnecessary colour in the world. It was as though someone decided to throw an extra purple into the rainbow just for good measure, which was clearly discriminatory against all other colours.

But violet was Misty's favourite colour. And Misty was Ash's favourite _everything_, and so for one night he could stand the colour violet and it's superfluous ways.

Everyone always thought that Misty's favourite colour was blue or green or yellow or even orange, but no one ever suspected that it would be violet - the most feminine, superfluous colour in the entire rainbow. But Ash knew, because he knew and loved everything you could possibly want to know about Misty Waterflower, and would until the day he died.

Drew's plan finally seemed to be coming to fruition. With Misty otherwise occupied with Tracey, and his mother out of the house, they had begun to set up everything they needed to undo Ash's mistake.

In truth, a large part of the plan had nothing to do with Ash's confession, and had been formulated and discussed well away from Ash. They all knew that Misty was indeed in love with Ash, and had been for quite some time, but telling Ash that had always been something akin to talking to a brick wall.

This had left them in a difficult position. Ash was filled with uncertainty, and fear that telling her how he felt would ruin the most important friendship of his life. And as long as Ash was feeling this way, he would _always_ screw things up about as royally as possible.

He had been trying to confess his feelings for almost a year, and had thus far only succeeded in convincing Misty that he had some obscure bladder condition ('Misty . . . I have to tell you something . . . I . . . need to go the bathroom'),  
an obsession with dairy products (Misty . . . I really l-l-love y-yo. . . uh . . . yoghurt and . . . um . . . cheese. I _really_ like cheese),  
a super Pokémon seeking sense (Misty, I . . . I think . . . I mean, I . . . was that just a pidgey? Gotta' catch 'em all'),  
Tourette syndrome (Misty I-I-I . . . uh . . . BITCH!' runs off),  
and apparently a preference for men. The above, along with your own knowledge of Ash's latest confession, hopefully exposes just how badly this had gone so far.

Thus, phase 1: get Misty to inadvertently confess her feelings to Ash. Phase 2: reveal to Ash just how long Misty has been in love with him under the guise of teaching him about flirting. Phase 3: the actual confession, and they were going to make sure he did it properly this time.

And so they were bringing about the appropriate controlled conditions. The living room had been cleared of all its furniture except for a low square table surrounded by plush violet cushions. Screeds of violet, indigo, and pink fabric had been draped elegantly around the room, and tapestry like rugs lay across the floor. Scented candles were nestled in different parts of the room, and flowers filled every spare space. The whole scene was nothing short of romantic.

A playlist of Misty's favourite love songs had been created on Ash's ipod, which was currently connected to the stereo playing The Living End while they worked on putting the finishing touches on things. The table had been set with Misty's favourite foods and Brock, the king of presentation, was currently moving them around into the best possible arrangement and setting the table with Mrs. Ketchum's best china (he was sure that Delia would understand and forgive their use – after all, it wasn't every day your son confessed his love to the girl of his dreams).

Only one thing was missing – the guest of honour. Ash checked his watch. Tracey promised to have her home by nine, which still gave them a good hour to work on things.

"Everyone out," Ash said decidedly, capturing the attention of the room full of males. "Don't worry. I'll finish everything, but I think I need some time alone to prepare myself," he offered sheepishly.

"All right, Ash," Brock said as he clamped a hand on Ash's shoulder and gestured for the others to leave. When the room was cleared, he turned to Ash with one last pep talk.

"Ash, I know you don't need this, but good luck," he said warmly. "Whatever happens, will happen, but I know that in the end, you and Misty were always meant to be. It's like you said – you guys meeting and everything else that happened to bring you two together, none of it was a coincidence. You were meant to meet. You were meant to be friends. You were meant to fall in love, and this is just one more of those destined, meant-to-be moments."

Ash returned his warm gaze. "Thanks, Brock," he answered with a watery smile. "I really needed to hear that right now."

"Then don't forget it," Brock told him. "And know that if you screw things up this time, I will be sending every last one of my Pokémon after you."

They shared a broad smile, and then Brock was on his way, leaving Ash alone with nothing to do but wait.

* * *

~ Earlier that evening approx. 6:00pm

"Misty, dear, are you sure you're going to be okay by yourself for a while?" Delia asked, as she gathered her bag in her hands. Concern was etched upon her features, and she looked reluctant to leave even as Professor Oak stood patiently waiting with a happy smile on his face.

"I'm sure, Mrs. K," Misty said with forced cheerfulness, forcing a smile onto her face in order to reassure the woman. "Please don't worry about me. You need a worry free night, and we can go right back to things tomorrow."

Delia offered a small smile in return, gently brushing a stray strand of copper hair from the redheads face. "I bet your parents are so proud of you, Misty," she whispered, "I know I am. I would have loved to be your mother (in-law), but this does not make you any less dear to me."

"Hey," Misty protested with a fake laugh, "don't think you'll be getting rid of me that easily. Just because Ash isn't in love with me, doesn't mean I won't be hanging around your doorstep anymore. You're still the second best cook I know."

Delia gave her a stern look, and Misty returned it with a cheeky grin. "Until you master Brock's 'Lazy-Boy-No-Chew-Stew' I refuse to concede that title."

"Very well, dear," Delia replied, pleased that Misty's smile was at least somewhat genuine this time, "but I refuse to prepare anything with the word 'Lazy-Boy' in it when I make the best croquembouche this side of Kanto.

"Don't stay up too late," she added as she leant and kissed Misty's forehead, just as she would her own son.

"Yes, Ma," Misty replied, imitating Ash's typical response. This time it was Delia's smile that turned genuine, and she left thinking about how nice it was to have Misty around, and making plans to shop for the required ingredients to make Misty her own mini-croquembouche with dinner tomorrow evening.

As Delia shut the door, Misty sighed and let the smile drop off her face. It was good to be alone. Now she was alone, she could stop pretending to be okay and let it all out.

Even Delia didn't know had bad this was for her, and she hoped that Ash remained painfully oblivious. It was quite clear to her now that she was doomed – Ash was pretty much it for her, and she was going to have to get used to the life of solitude. A life when she and Ash were forever best friends.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

A knock on the door jarred her from her depressing thoughts, and she forced the smile back onto her face as she went to get it, assuming it was Delia forgetting her keys or something equally momentous. As together a person Delia was, it was quite apparent where Ash got certain traits regarding forgetfulness and tardiness.

"What did you forget this ti-" she began to tease as she opened the door, only to be met with a pair of brown eyes that did not belong to Delia Ketchum. "Tracey, what are you doing here? Mrs. K just left with the Professor, but I can take a message for later. Not really sure where Ash is," she added with a sad note, "but I'll let him know you stopped by."

"Actually, Misty, I'm here to see you," he responded with what he hoped was a charming smile.

Misty looked confused, if not a little pained. Even though she considered Tracey a good friend, she would much rather be wallowing in sorrow right now than exchanging pleasantries. "Why me?" she asked, crossing her arms over he chest. She hoped that her body language would send the right message, and Tracey would finish quickly.

He smiled again, and Misty resisted a strange urge to shudder. That smile was just plain creepy.

"Misty," he said softly, reaching and taking one of her hands in his own. He was oblivious to the scowl twitching at the corner of her lips, or the way her eyes narrowed automatically. "There's something I need to tell you. Something I've been keeping inside of me for years. As much as I've tried to stop feeling this way, I realize now that I can't change the way I feel."

_'Not again,'_ Misty groaned silently, recognizing the beginnings of Tracey's speech. _'Why must they always come out to _me_?'_

"Misty, I'm in love with you."

"Excuse me, what?" Misty asked at his revelation, all other thoughts leaving her head. _"You love me?"_

"Yes, Misty," he answered passionately. "I always have. Right from the start. I loved you the first moment I saw you."

Misty sat suddenly, dropping down to the floor like a lead balloon. "This is a lot to take in," she muttered dazedly. "Why?" she asked desperately.

"Because you're a great person, Misty," he replied, crouching near her. Misty had to stop herself from scooting away, and only allowed her self to lean back slightly. "You're so kind, and caring, and beautiful."

"Tracey, I'm sorry," she said, taking a deep breath and giving him a sympathetic smile. "I don't feel the same."

"That's ok," Tracey shrugged. "Maybe with time-"

"No," she said cutting him off. "I don't love you, Tracey. I never have. And I never will."

Tracey gaped at her, surprised at her harsh words.

"It's not you. It's me," she offered lamely, a weak smile on her lips.

"No, it's _him_," he replied, his tone cold and unemotional. "It's always him.

"Misty, when are you going to give up on him?" Tracey asked passionately, anger from her rejection getting the best of him. He never would have dreamed of speaking to Misty so candidly, especially on a subject that she never dared broach with anyone, although everyone knew it to be true.

"Are you just going to spend the rest of your life _pining_ over someone who will never feel the same?" he asked, a mild pang of guilt registering in his heart as he saw Misty's eyes cloud with pain. He didn't bother registering the fact that he was lying to her, or at least misrepresenting the truth, and simply let his anger lead him. "Why do you even bother, Misty?"

Misty stared at him silently, his words ringing in her head. They brought to head the reality of what loving Ash meant. She was going to spend the rest of her life pining over someone who would never return her feelings through no fault of his own. If it was anyone's fault, it was hers for not being born with the right chromosome.

Loving Ash meant standing on the sidelines, and watching him live his life, while hers simply passed them by. One day he would find someone, he would fall in love, and she would just watch and be happy that he was happy. For the rest of her life, his happiness would be the only thing that mattered. She would never be selfish again.

"Please, Misty," Tracey begged, noting her changing expression. "Please, just give me a chance. I know you don't love me now, but maybe one day. I could make you happy."

"Okay," she said, getting up slowly. "Just let me change. I'll be down in a few minutes."

She headed up to the guest bedroom with languid steps. She couldn't feel the excitement that should accompany the prospect of a date with someone who loved you, or at least thought they loved you.

It really should have been some sort of boost to her ego, but instead she just felt . . . nothing. Instead of her heart swelling at Tracey's promise to make her happy, she scoffed. She knew it wasn't true, even if he didn't. She would give him a chance, even though she knew there was only one person that could make her happy.

"Misty, you look lovely," Tracey complimented as she returned ten minutes later wearing a lemon coloured sundress. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore only the smallest amount of make up.

She forced a smile and accepted the arm offered to her. They would walk together to Pallet's small shopping precinct and pick a restaurant from there. It wasn't much of a walk – maybe thirty minutes – but it was enough to make Misty regret wearing her new sandals instead of her tennis shoes.

Tracey picked out a small French restaurant, remembering that Misty simply adored anything French. She forced another smile. She didn't feel like French. She wanted hamburgers and chips with lots of ice cream for dessert. Ash would have known that, but Tracey thought he knew better.

He treated her like a princess. He opened doors; he pulled out her chair and laid down her napkin. He even ordered for the both of them when the waiter came to their table. Misty hated it. She hated being treated like a damsel incapable of doing things for herself.

But Tracey was sweet. He was really trying to make her happy, but he was going about it completely the wrong way. He was doing everything to make someone happy, but that person wasn't her.

"Tell me again why you love me, Tracey?" she asked, her voice empty.

Tracey smiled, thinking he had her now. "It's because you're kind and sweet and caring, Misty. You're one of the nicest people I know, and I really admire that."

"What else?" she asked.

"Well, you're really beautiful and-"

"No, I mean, what about the rest of me?" she asked him. "Like my temper. Or the fact that I have a vocabulary that could make a sailor blush. How about my ego? I can be pretty arrogant when I feel like it.

"And I'm violent – I'm sweet to my Pokémon, and people too as long as they don't cross me, or if they really need it, but I think I'd rather hit someone than try to talk out our differences," she commented. "And I can't cook. And I _hate_ chores – I think if I could get away with doing nothing but sleeping all day I would. I can be mean when I feel like, and pretty crass too. Not to mention manipulative and I'm not above lying to get what I want.

"What about all of that?" she asked finally. "How do you feel about that?"

"Well . . . uh . . . I guess I love you despite of all that," he offered thinking he had found the perfect answer. "I love you enough to look beyond all of those things, Misty."

Misty stood quickly, throwing some money down on the table. Her eyes dulled, and the false smile she had been carrying all day dropped off her face in an instant. "I'm sorry," she said softly, unable to even meet his eyes. "I can't do this anymore. I just can't."

"Misty-" he began, jumping to his feet to try and stop her.

"You don't love me, Tracey," she told him seriously, cutting off his attempts to make her stay. "I'm not really sure who you love, but that person you keep describing – the sweet, kind, beautiful one . . . it isn't me. It's a part of me, but it's not me. You've got this idealized version of who I am, and I'm never going to live up to your loving me notwithstanding 'the rest'."

"But, Misty, I do love you. I-"

Misty cut him off once again. "I shouldn't have come here tonight. It doesn't matter if I'll be alone. It doesn't matter that he doesn't love me, because the truth is," she said softly, "he's the only one who ever could."

And with those last parting words she left. She ran away, racing out towards the midnight blue darkness and away from everything. There was a tight feeling in her chest that weighed heavily on her heart. The feeling in her chest could mean many things, but as she heard Tracey call her name – desperately trying to call her back to him – she knew only one word could describe it.

_Guilt_.

She never should have gone out with Tracey. She accepted for all the wrong reasons. She may not want to be alone, but on the same note, she didn't want to be with anyone other than Ash and the date felt like a betrayal. As though going out with Tracey had somehow cheapened her feelings for Ash.

She discarded her sandals so she could run even faster back to the sanctuary that was the Ketchum residence where she could go back to her solitary moping. It was the only place she where she could let it all out.

It wasn't long before she was back at her friend's home, and she entered through the kitchen door, not even bothering to turn on a light as she made her way towards the stairs. But before she could head to her room, a strange sight caught her eye, and she couldn't help but gasp aloud.

There, in the centre of the Ketchum living room, was Ash Ketchum fiddling with his ipod, surrounded by lush purple fabric, violet pillows and tables of her favourite food. She couldn't understand any of it.

He turned at the sound of her voice, his shocked expression similar to her own. As she looked at him, she couldn't help but let out another gasp, because there in his hand was her favourite flower . . . and it too was violet.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .

This isn't actually how I was intending to finish this chapter originally, but it was getting kind of on the long side so we'll have to wait. No funny in that one sorry, 'cept maybe Misty's description of herself. The drama is picking up as we've only one chapter left (maybe an epilogue? I like to name future children). I was actually going to make this a Tracey-bashing chapter, but decided it wasn't really necessary.

My favourite part of that one is the line in Ash's monologue at the start. The 'Misty was Ash's favourite _everything' _line. Soooo cute.

Next chapter: Guess.

Also, for anyone wondering Croquembouche is a French dessert made of profiteroles and spun sugar often served at weddings. If you're going to look it up, go to google images because the wiki picture is crap.


	7. Orange

I'm early again, but I suspect that's a good thing so no complaints, right? This is the final chapter and I haven't made any decisions with regard to epilogue. If I do write an epilogue, the chapter will be titled 'Pot of Gold', but that's about as much as I've thought about.

Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokemon, or anything else that is mentioned that looks like something I probably don't own including the song 'Love You 'Til the End' by the Pogues - it's the one from P.S. I Love You.

I Thought I Saw a Rainbow – Orange

Orange _(n.)_ a round juicy fruit with a tough bright –

No wait, that wasn't right. Let's try starting this again.

I Thought I Saw a Rainbow – Orange

Orange _(n.) _a hue of that portion of the visible spectrum lying between red and yellow, evoked in the human observer by radiant energy with wavelengths of approximately 590 to 630 nanometers.

Orange had been Ash's favourite colour since his tenth birthday. Before that it had been red, and maybe blue, but the day of his tenth birthday changed his whole life. From that day – from the moment he was fished out of that freezing river to be met with a flash of his new favourite shade – it had always been orange.

And not just any orange. It was a brilliant copper-red sort of orange that reminded him of fruit, and summer, and sweetness, and Misty. He should have known from that first glimpse of copper-red hair that from that moment on it would always be Misty.

And now here she was before him, looking more beautiful than ever with her copper locks pulled back and her blue-green eyes filled with a myriad of emotions. In his eyes, she looked a fallen angel. She was something ethereal; something wonderful.

"Misty!" Ash gaped at the sight of his best friend. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here."

"What?" she responded sulkily, looking near heartbroken by his words. "I suppose you have a date or something.

"The place looks nice," she added, glancing around the room with fake indifference. "I'm sure he'll like it."

"No! Not like that!" he exclaimed, knowing that her mind was wandering to guyxguy places and probably picturing this as some sort of erotic love nest for some shounen ai ('beautiful boys in love') action.

"I just mean that you're early," he qualified. "You weren't supposed to be back 'til later. Did Tracey do something?" he asked noting her sad expression.

"No, I just . . ." she began absently. "Wait. You knew Tracey asked me out?!" she asked, quickly becoming enraged.

"Well, yeah. But I swear it's not what you think," he pleaded, raising his hands in protest as she stalked towards him. "Just give me the chance to explain, Misty."

She softened slightly. Ash had always been her greatest weakness. "I'm listening," she said pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Okay . . . right . . . um . . ." he began anxiously. "Sit," he offered, gesturing to the pillows. Misty complied. "Just wait a second," he promised.

He quickly began moving around the room lighting candles, but gave up part way through and released Chimchar to finish the job. He then disappeared to the kitchen; returning moments later with what looked suspiciously like Brock's infamous chocolate soufflé (although it looked as though it could do with a bit more time). The dessert was placed on the table, and Ash went back to his ipod, pressing play as the strumming of a guitar filled the room.

She recognised the song instantly. It was a favourite of hers. And that's when she realized that the set up, the room filled with her favourite things – it wasn't a coincidence.

"This is for me?" she half-asked, her eyes widening in surprise. "You did this . . . for me?"

Ash nodded enthusiastically, sitting himself perpendicular to her. A male voice accompanied the guitar.

_"I just want to see you  
When you're all alone  
I just want to catch you if I can"_

"Ash . . . why are you doing this?" she asked desperately, frowning in confusion.

He smiled that sweet lopsided smile that she had fallen in love with all those years ago. "Because I didn't get it right the first time . . . or the second time . . . or any of the times really."

Suddenly, Tracey's words came back to her.

_There's something I need to tell you . . ._ Ash had started the same way . . .

_**"There's, I mean, there's something I have to tell you."**_

_Something I've been keeping inside of me for all these years . . ._ Ash had been keeping something inside . . .

_**"Misty, I've got a secret I've been keeping inside of me for years," he admitted to her, watching her carefully as he spoke, "only lately I've been feeling like I can't keep it buried in there much longer and it's become such a part of me that I don't know what to do about it."**_

_I've tried to stop feeling this way_ . . . Ash had tried to stop his feelings too . . .

_**"I've tried to keep it hidden," he said almost painfully. "I've tried to stop feeling the way that I do, but I realize now that I can't change the way I feel."**_

_I realize now I can't change the way you feel_ . . . the exact same words spoken by another with an entirely different meaning – or so she thought. Ash couldn't change how he felt, but _how did he feel?_

"Misty, I-"

"You love me," she said, cutting him off midsentence.

"Um . . . yeah," he answered sheepishly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

"And you're not gay," she continued.

"Well . . . no."

"And you never were gay."

"No," he said again.

"And you let me take you underwear shopping, you pig!" she screamed, suddenly whacking him painfully in the chest. Ash was about to defend himself, but then he remembered James' words about flirting.

"Does this mean you love me too?" he asked hopefully, giving her another one of those painfully sweet smiles.

"I guess," she replied flippantly. "I'd have to, to let you live after what you did."

"It wasn't my fault," Ash protested. "You were the one who didn't let me finish."

"Well, what else am I supposed to think when you tell me you've got a secret and have been hiding your feelings?" she asked pointedly.

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best choice of words, but it's not like you ever tried to tell me how you felt," he argued defensively.

"What do you think I've been trying to do all these years?" she argued back. "I've done everything short of jumping on top of you and kissing you senseless."

Ash blushed at the very profound sense of déjà vu that washed over him. "I . . . uh . . . wouldn't be opposed to that," he offered cheekily, remembering some of Gary's flirting lessons this time.

A grin pulled onto Misty's lips, her first genuine smile in days. "Does this mean you meant what you said in the store?" she asked as she clasped her fingers behind his neck painstakingly slowly, and inched her body closer to his.

"What store?" he replied dazedly, thoroughly distracted by the heat emanating from her body.

"Victoria's Secret," she answered.

Ash gulped at the memory, remembering that it too had been in her favourite colour. "Will you hit me if I say yes?" he asked cautiously.

"Maybe," she answered, tightening her grip around his neck and bringing her face closer to his. He could feel her breath against his lips, and in that moment he forgot about everything else and closed the gap between him, fulfilling the very thing he had been dreaming of since he realized that girls did not have cooties and that kissing one probably wouldn't result in instant death.

He pressed his lips against hers, immediately feeling warmth shoot through his entire body as she pressed back, opening her mouth slightly to pull his lower lip between her two. Every second brought them closer together – chest to chest, leg to leg, hip to hip.

It wasn't long before he found himself hovering above Misty as she lay back into the bed of pillows. He pulled away so he could look her in the eye, his gaze conveying every feeling he ever felt for her.

"I love you," he told her as the song accompanying their tender moment uttered the same words. "I love you."

She smiled and leaned up to place a chaste kiss upon his lips, and let the music speak for her.

"_I know you want to hear me  
Catch my breath  
I love you 'til the end_

_I love you 'til the end."_

* * *

"Tell me again why you love me," Misty insisted as she snuggled into his chest, making herself nice and comfortable. With Ash's duvet over top of them, it was an incredibly cozy situation to be in.

Ash groaned, but complied, wrapping his arms tighter around her lithe form. "Okay," he sighed. "I love you because . . . because you can trick absolutely any male into doing what you want regardless of age, marital status, or sexual orientation," he told her with a chuckle.

"What else?" she asked, smiling to herself as he spoke.

"I love you because . . ." he began again, running his fingers through copper coloured hair, "because you're the kind of person who won't take anything sitting down. I don't think I know any other girl who isn't afraid that fighting might break a nail."

"Go on."

"I love you because . . . you aren't afraid of anything . . . 'cept bugs, but I still think you're cute when you're scared."

"I am not afraid of bugs," she insisted, giving him a stern look for insinuating otherwise. "I just don't like them."

"Sure, Myst," he smiled, kissing her forehead. "I love that after all these years, you still think I'll fall for that line."

She pouted. He laughed. "I love you because you're sweet when it suits you, and nasty when it doesn't, and because you're the only person who can keep me on my toes like this."

She smiled, moving herself so that she lay atop his chest looking up at him sweetly. "You're an idiot, Ash," she told him quite plainly, smiling all the while. "But you're my idiot. And that's why I love you."

"I love you," he echoed, capturing her lips with his own. She giggled, still not quite used to hearing him say the words, as he rolled over her, changing their positions so that she was pressed into the mattress beneath him. "You know why else I love you?" he asked huskily, pressing his lips to her jaw line as he trailed them up to her ear.

She shook her head.

"I love you because-"

"Ashton Satoshi Ketchum!" a voice cried as his bedroom door was pushed open. "What on earth did you do to my lounge?! And my good china! How could you-"

Delia cut her self off as she walked through the door, noting the position her son was in. All she could see was the back of the boy raised on his forearms, clearly suggesting that some other being was beneath him.

"Oh god!" she gaped, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene. This was the last thing she wanted to walk in on. Just when she had finally come to terms with her son's sexual preference, she barges in on him in a tryst with some boy.

Misty quickly pushed him off of her, knowing that their position would give anyone the wrong impression, and Ash promptly fell to the floor with a satisfying 'thump'. "Mrs. Ketchum, it's not what you think," Misty exclaimed, sitting up fully clothed and only slightly dishevelled. "We weren't . . . you know . . . I mean . . ."

Delia blinked at the blushing red head, and then turned her eyes to the boy on the floor blushing just as brilliantly. She quickly did the math, and found that the conclusion pleased her immensely.

"Never mind," she said warmly, stepping back towards the door. "You two just get back to whatever it was you _weren't_ doing," she told them with a wink.

She smiled to herself as she shut the door, letting her imagination go wild.

There would be a spring wedding, although maybe not on Oak's plantation now they she though about it. A beach would be much better suited to the pair, or maybe even a nice country church. Everyone would be invited, and the bride would be dressed in the purest shade of white. And there would be croquembouche.

Not long after there would be grandchildren – three of them. Two girls and one boy. They would all have their father's smile and their mother's wit. The girls would have their mother's figure, and the boy would be tall like his father with an untameable head of hair. They would have brown eyes like chocolate, and lightly tanned skin dotted with the sweetest little freckles.

And their hair?

Why _Orange _of course.

. . . THE END OF THE RAINBOW . . .

Thanks again for reading. There was intended to be a full confession there, but somehow I felt it didn't suit the tone of the piece. Hope you enjoyed.


	8. Epilogue: Pot of Gold

I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do for this epilogue. I knew there had to be a wedding and I wanted to make things as happily ever after as possible, but I also wanted a bit of slapstick humour in there. Hopefully you all enjoy, and thanks again to everyone who read this, or favourited it, or alerted it. Especial thanks to everyone that reviewed it, because like all fanfic writers, I am fueled by reviews and constantly need my ego replenishing by way of comments.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, or rainbows, or you know . . . anything really.

I Thought I Saw a Rainbow – Pot of Gold

_A rainbow is a beautiful thing. It is an incredible thing when you really think about it – about light catching in tiny droplets of moisture, about each colour, about everything that goes into its making. _

_And when you get to the end of it . . . well maybe there's nothing there . . . but you've seen it . . . and that alone is a miracle._

_Red_

_Orange_

_Yellow_

_Green _

_Blue _

_Indigo _

_Violet_

Rainbow_ (n.)_ An arc of spectral colours, usually identified as red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, that appears in the sky opposite the sun as a result of the refractive dispersion of sunlight in drops of rain or mist.

* * *

Ash smiled, catching Misty's eye across the aisle. She smiled back, mouthing the words 'I love you' as she crossed a sham mark meaningfully above her heart. Her gesture warmed him, and he honestly couldn't wait until the end of the ceremony to have her in his arms once again.

"Dearly beloved," the celebrant began dramatically, raising his voice to silence the murmuring crowd. "We are gathered here today to join these two lovebirds . . . yada yada yada-"

"Gary," Misty growled, narrowing her eyes at the celebrant, "do it properly you twit or I will not hesitate to kill you."

"Language, Misty," Gary replied sanctimoniously. "We're in a place of God, you know. I'm pretty sure what you just said to me was a sin."

Misty stewed quietly. "Remind me again how Gary Oak ended up as the celebrant," she hissed lowly.

"He did a course," Ash murmured back, "and Brock reckoned it would be more meaningful seeing as none of us are really religious or anything."

"Good one, Brock," she glowered, glaring at the groom.

She turned her eyes back to Gary, narrowing them once again. "No more skipping, Gary, or I seriously won't care where we are," she warned dangerously.

"Right," Gary replied nervously, tugging at his collar. He coughed before returning to the beginning. "Dearly beloved - friends, family, and loved ones - we are gathered here today so that these two souls can be joined as one in the holiest of matrimony. You have all been invited today, to bare witness to the love of -"

"Mommy!" a small voice cried, interrupting the ceremony once again. The three year old raced forward and clung hopelessly to his mother's legs, sobbing into her kneecaps. She bobbed down low and gathered the boy in her arms, whispering words of comfort to the dark-haired child.

Gary scoffed. "Look at that," he smirked, "your kid is just as big a wimp as you are."

"Gary," Ash growled dangerously, narrowing his eyes into a glare learnt from the Queen of glares herself.

"You think I'm scared of you, Ketchum?" Gary asked sardonically in reply, unphased by the trademark 'Waterfower glare' on anyone other than the one who brought it such notoriety.

"No," Ash answered, "but you are scared of Misty."

Gary gulped as he turned to face Misty's narrowed eyes once again.

"Hush, sweetheart," she cooed softly to the boy in her arms, "don't you listen your uncle Gary; he's a jackass," she added, with a glare at Gary to punctuate her point. "You know what that means, Dylan?" The little boy shook his head sadly at her. "Good. I'll tell you when you're older."

"What's wong, Dil'?" Ash asked, moving to Misty's side.

"Other than Gary," Misty added for good measure.

"Izzy an' 'Lena were being mean," he managed to gasp between sobs. "They stoled da pillow, an' I told them I needs it cos I had a vewy im-im . . . a portent job ta do."

"Nuh-uh," two raven haired girls protested in unison, blinking their bright blue eyes innocently at their parents. "He wasn't holding it right." "We were helping him," one and then the other cried in protest. In their matching flower girl dresses, the two five and a half year olds looked like angels and not the little devils that most knew them to be, especially when it came to thier little brother.

Delia Ketchum was hardly disappointed at all that none of her grandchildren (thus far she was sure to remind people - she still held out hope and was always encouraging the pair to increase their small family by offering to babysit the three they already had) had been born with red locks. Salena and Isabelle, her twin granddaughters, had their grandfather's -her husband's - colouring, that is, raven black hair with saphire blue eyes. Their eyes held a hint of green that bespoke of their mother, and they were much fairer than their grandfather, but it was clear the 'Ketchum eyes' had skipped a generation. Everything else about them seemed to scream Waterflower, from their heart shaped face to the upturned nose. It was already predicted that the two would be heartbreakers in the future, although not before they were thirty if their father had his way.

Dylan, her sobbing grandson, was more promising. He had his mother's eyes and various other prominent features that Misty said came from her father. Like the girls, he had not inherited his mother's carrot top hair, but rather Delia's own red brown hair, which was almost as untameable as his father's. He had Ash's smile and impish nature, but without his parents' hard headedness and tenacity to back it up, leaving him prey to Isabelle and Salena's scheming.

Misty gave the two girls are stern look.

"We're telling the truth, mama," Isabelle promised her mother sweetly, batting her eyelashes at her mother's frown.

"We swear, mama," Salena added with a broad smile.

Misty scoffed. "You know I almost would have believed you if I hadn't seen your auntie Lily teach you that smile a week ago," she responded, completely unmoved by the angelic looks they were giving her. "Go sit with your grandmother," she told them. The two sullenly turned their heads down as they moved to sit in the row with Delia who smiled despite herself - she couldn't bear to be mad with her grandchildren.

"As you were saying, Gary," Misty sighed, turning back to the celebrant.

Gary nodded and continued. "You have all been invited here today to bare witness to the inspiring love of-"

"I OBJECT!" a voice called loudly, flinging open the back doors of the wedding with a loud cry. "My darling, forget this fancy and be with me. You know we two are meant to be together!"

The bridal party and guests all turned around to face the new arrival.

"Uh . . . wrong wedding," he uttered awkwardly before disappearing in a flash of purple.

"Was that Paul?" Ash asked. "I didn't even know you guys knew each other."

"I don't think he was here for me," the bride replied, trying not to laugh at the surprised look etched on her husband-to-be's face.

"Oh right, wrong wedding," Ash explained.

"Something like that," she replied.

Outside the church, Paul Shinji was pacing and cursing to himself aloud. That was his one chance, and he had screwed it up. Now he would never be with his precious one, left alone in a hollow ship nobody would write.

Misty nodded at Gary to begin again, but before he could even pick-up where he left off, the entire alter exploded and three shadows could be seen through the smokey haze.

"Prepare for trouble or wedded bliss."

"And make it double, we couldn't possibly miss."

"To protect the world from devastation."

"To unite all peoples within our nation."

"To denounce the evils of truth and love."

"To extend our reach to the stars above."

"Jesse."

"James."

". . . and Cassie makes three!"

"Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light."

"Surrender now or prepare to fight, fight fi-ight!"

" . . . Cassie, that's right!"

"What are you three doing?" Ash questioned in wonder.

"You didn't invite us," James moaned, tears streaming down their faces.

"So we're gate crashing," Jesse explained blandly. Cassie (or rather, Cassandra Jane), age seven, just waved excitedly at her two best friends.

"What?" the groom asked frowning. "We definitely invited you guys. Yours was in the first lot of invites."

Jesse scoffed. "Well we _definitely_ didn't get one," she replied with a sarcastic note in her voice. "Did you send it to the home address or the business?" she asked exasperatedly, apparently giving them a chance to redeem them selves.

All eyes turned to Ash who considered the question for a moment. "I sent it to 14 Gemini Place," he replied, not really sure whether that was home or business.

"So neither," was Jesse's dry response.

"Ash, I told you that was a one and not just a smudge," Misty admonished with a stern look. She rolled her eyes to the sky and sighed exasperatedly, "this is what you get when you put Ash in charge of sending the invitations."

"How was I supposed to know?" Ash asked in his defence. "It was in that fancy cursive writing. It looked as much like a smudge as it did a one."

"It was a seven," Jesse cut in before turning to glare at her own husband. She pulled out her age-old fan, and wacked him not so gently over the head. "I've told you a thousand times that you shouldn't use cursive for anything important, but do you listen? I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"But it's so pretty and romantic," James whimpered as he ducked from another assault."

"Hey, guys," Brock cut in, ever the voice of reason. "Why don't you just take a seat and we can sort this out later?"

"Sure," they agreed, having the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

With a wry smile he turned to Gary. "If you wouldn't mind . . ."

Gary nodded and quickly glanced at his page. "This union of –"

The doors flew open once again, and with a groan of annoyance they all turned to face the latest arrival.

A boy in a red and blue uniform stood in the open doorway. "I've got four large pizza's here," the boy called dopily.

Misty turned knowingly to Ash with a grimace. "Please tell me you did not order a pizza to the wedding?" she hissed.

"Misty, I swear on the lives of our children: I did not order a pizza to this wedding," Ash promised her sincerely.

Misty clearly didn't miss the qualification. "Who are they for?" she asked the pizza boy, raising a single eyebrow in his direction.

"Uh . . . it says here that if I get asked that by a redhead in a green dress I should quickly assess how angry she is on a scale from one to ten, and if it's anything greater than four I should pass these to the nearest Pokémon and run for my life." The boy paused to eye Misty cautiously. "Dude, that's like a ten point five if ever I saw it. Handle with care, dude," he said as he passed the boxes to a near by abra. "I am so outta here.

"Hey, you're Ash Ketchum," the boy gaped happily before he left. Out of habit, Ash puffed up his chest proudly, readying himself to deny autographs on such a sacred occasion. "You're the dude whose name is on the order."

Ash didn't even cautious a glimpse in Misty's direction as he dragged a palm slowly across his face. "Just leave," he said tiredly. "Leave before you become the sole surviving witness to the bloodiest mass-homicide Kanto has ever seen."

"You got it, dude," the delivery boy agreed with a quick salute before going on his way.

"And you can forget about a tip!" Ash cried spitefully after him.

"Ash Ketchum, I cannot believe you!" Misty cried angrily. "And don't even try to deny it, 'dude whose name is on the order'. This is the sixth time you've done this. I-"

"Enough!" the groom – who was not Ash Ketchum – yelled, cutting Misty off in the opening bars of a well-deserved rant. "I can't take anymore of this. I should have never let you two anywhere near my wedding – not after your own fiasco. I should have known by now, Ketchums and weddings Do. Not. Mix."

"Hey," Delia uttered indignantly.

"I didn't mean you, Mrs. Ketchum. You've been great," he said apologetically. "Not you, Misty," he added when he noted his smug looking best friend. "I meant the original, not the double."

Misty pouted.

"Hey," the bride – who on the same note was not Misty Waterflower (who was also not Misty Waterflower and had been Misty Ketchum for some time now) – in a misleadingly soft voice. "It's a just a few minor setbacks," she told her husband-to-be as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It'll all be alright."

Brock nodded, taking comfort in her presence. "I suppose it could be worse."

Which segues us to the Flashback-Wedding-Montage!

_

* * *

~ Ten years ago_

"_This is Lucy Qwong reporting from the scene of one of the most horrendous fires this small seaside town has ever seen," a pretty blonde with green eyes told the camera. "I have one of the guests here with me to comment. Young man, what happened?"_

_A young Ash Ketchum looked startled as a microphone was shoved into his face. "It wasn't my fault!" he protested dramatically. "Ask anyone. It wasn't me. Just don't ask Misty, 'cos she'll say it was, but it was her fault too. I swear I didn't do anything."_

"_ASH KETCHUM!" the voice of Jesse Hubris cried loudly as the redhead appeared in a white wedding dress smudge with patches of soot. "I know it was you, you little twerp! Misty told me everything."_

"_Shit," Ash hissed under his breath. "Hey, Ma," he quickly waved at the camera. "Don't believe anything Misty tells you. I'll explain when we get home. Gotta' run."_

"_You come back here, you little twerp!" Jesse cried. "I'm going to strangle you with my own two hands, you sonofa-"_

_

* * *

~ Seven and a half years ago_

_It didn't take long to recover from the fire – it wasn't nearly as bad as the TV mad out, mostly because it was the ONLY fire Pallet had ever seen. At this time, Ash Ketchum lay in his bed having a pleasant dream. "Pokeball, go!" he called in his sleep, tossing the appropriately shaped alarm clock out a serendipitously open window as he spoke. "Yay, I caught me a Misty . . . mine forever . . . no, Misty, not your kiss attack," he said as a wide grin pulled on his lips. "Mmmmm."_

_Somewhere outside his window, a Pokémon ball shaped alarm clock went off annoying a small family of sunflora, but otherwise leaving the occupants of the house undisturbed._

_Several hours later, Ash was awoken by a hard knock to his front door. He woke groggily and opened it to the impatient visitor, his party of best man (Brock Slate) and groomsmen (Gary Oak, Tracey Sketchit, James Femesse, and Drew Hayden – cos people like him) following behind in the same sleepy state._

"_Hey, Myst," he greeted, smiling at the pretty scowling redhead in a white gown, and stupidly – given the scowl – leaning in for a kiss. "What are you doing here? You know the groom's not supposed to see the bride in her dress before the wedding," he joked, assuming it was as hilarious to her as it was to him._

_Misty knocked him away with an angry jerk of her wrist. "The wedding started half an hour ago," she said in an empty, emotionless tone._

"_It can't have," Ash protested. "My alarm clock didn't go off."_

"_You mean this alarm clock?" Misty asked, holding up the item she had found outside. Ash's eyes fell on the clock face and gasped at the time._

"_Misty, I'm so sorry," he began, spluttering a stream of heart-felt apologies. "I didn't mean to stand you up. I want to marry you, Misty. I only want to marry you. I don't think I've ever wanted anything as much in my life."_

"_I know," she replied. "You only seem to sleep through the things that matter to you."_

_Ash smiled sheepishly at her summation of his behaviour. "Give me five minutes," he said, turning to run back in. He was stopped by Misty's hand on his shoulder, and gave her a questioning look._

"_If you want to get married," she stated simply, "you're getting married like that. I've already waited half an hour for you, I'm not waiting any longer."_

"_But, Misty –" he began, glancing down at his attire. He was grateful that he had had the apparent forethought not to sleep naked the night before, but did not think his tentacruel covered boxer shorts (and gift from and for Misty) were much of an alternative._

_Misty cut him off with a shake of her head. "And the same goes for the rest of you," she added, addressing the rest of the grooms party who were similarly attired in very little aside from James who wore his favourite pair of satin pyjamas and a sleeping mask. The rest of the boys were either in silk boxers or cotton y-fronts and very little else. "C'mon," she said herding them out the door._

_The five of them each met up with their escorts who gave them either an amused or appraising look. Jesse looked almost green with embarrassment, but it may have just been morning sickness. Brock glanced hopefully at the maid-of-honour whom it would take the better part of the next eight years to woo. _

_The remaining three – Gary, Tracey and Drew – were each attached to one of the three Sensational Sisters. Gary, who was escorting Lily, glared maliciously at Tracey who had Daisy chattering happily in his ear, seemingly oblivious to the young researchers choice of attire. Drew was trying desperately to inch away from Violet Waterflower who kept giving him the most salacious looks he had ever seen his life. Although not old enough to be his mother, Drew still found the more than a decade age difference between them disturbing._

_The guests who had all followed Misty to collect her groom held a mixture of different expressions, although mostly surprise. A few looked horrified by the display, but the majority seemed to have simply accepted it as the sort of thing that often came with being a friend of Ash and Misty. Delia held a superior smile, feeling justified in her constant reminders to the boy to change his underwear._

_And so on his own front doorstep in nothing but a pair of Pokémon covered silk boxers, Ash Ketchum was married to Misty Waterflower. And as strange as it may seem, he still considered it the happiest day of his life._

_

* * *

~ Five and a half years ago _

_On a private beach in Cerulean Cape not accessible by any vehicle, a small party had gathered for a rather unexpected ceremony._

_The celebrant smiled warmly at all those gathered. "Friends and family," the anonymous celebrant began warmly, "we are gathered here today to see Gary Oak and Daisy Waterflower re-affirm the vows they made five years ago, this time in the presence of those they hold dear. Love, like many things, comes when you least expect it and –"_

"_Uh, Daisy?" Misty cut in cautiously, biting her lower lip as she glanced at her older sister. "Do you mind speeding things along a little?"_

_Daisy turned to give her sister a scathing remark, but changed her mind when she saw her sister's pained expression. "Baby sister, what's wrong?" she asked with concern._

"_There's no need to panic or anything," Misty shrugged. "It's just . . . well . . . my water broke about an hour ago and my contractions have been coming a minute apart for the last ten minutes."_

"_Misty, why didn't you say something?" she gaped as her sister seemed to relax a little as the contraction passed._

"_I didn't want to ruin this one," she replied with a crooked smile._

"_Ha ha, that's funny, Misty," Ash said. "I thought you just said that your water broke and you were having contractions. But that's funny 'cos the babies aren't due until next month."_

"_Ash, I did say that my water broke and I'm having contractions," Misty stated calmly. "And it doesn't matter when the babies are due because they're coming now."_

"_Oh," Ash replied before promptly fainting. By the time he came to the emergency services had been called, and the careful preparations made by Daisy and Gary almost completely destroyed by the emergency helicopter, which was the only way to get Misty from the beach to the local hospital to give birth to her twin daughters. This only added to Ash and Misty's increasingly stunning record._

_Ash and Misty: 3. Weddings: 0._

_

* * *

~ 4 years ago_

_In a courthouse in Viridian City, a civil ceremony was occurring. It was one of the first of its kind following a recent reform of gay marriage rights in Kanto, and the two men engaged in it looked happy beyond words._

"_Now before we continue," the civil servant conducting the marriage began, "I've been asked to show the following video. Tracey and Harley, these are the words of your friends and family to start you on your new lives together."_

_The room darkened as a screen was pulled down, and the image projected. There were several warm wishes directed at the happy couple from various acquaintances. Soon enough Ash's voice was heard off-screen and everyone seemed to sense the coming disaster._

"Myst, are you sure we're ok to be in here?"_ Ash asked._

"Yes,"_ Misty replied, dragging her husband into the camera's view. _"Now hurry up. I'm ovulating."

"You make it sound so appealing,"_ he told her sarcastically._

_Misty looked unamused. _"I'm asking you to have sex with me," _she said drolly. _"I didn't realize I had to go to much more effort than that."

"Fair point,"_ he shrugged as he began undressing his wife. The two disappeared off camera once again, but their voices still carried to the camera's microphone for the various guests of this small ceremony to hear._

_This one, if anything, was a tie._

_

* * *

~ Two years ago_

_Drew maintained, as he would forever more, that it was all Ash's fault. Ash was the one who decided it would be fun to spend a night in the Pokémon equivalent of Vegas. Ash was the one who bought him his first drink. Ash was the one who continued to supply them with alcohol. And Ash was eventually the one who, in an un-drunken, but stupid haze – suggested it would be an awesome idea for someone to get married at one of the drive-thru chapels._

_Ash, Gary, James and Tracey were all out of the running as participation was technically illegal, which left the two single boys: Brock and Drew. Brock wanted out as he had a particular girl in mind, but Ash instead came up with a devious way to determine who it would come down to. If asked, none of them would be able to tell you how it ended up being Drew, but they would all agree on one thing: it was _definitely _Ash's fault._

_And that – somehow – is how Drew Hayden ended up married to Dawn Berlitz for exactly twenty-three hours, seventeen minutes, and fourty-two seconds, and although Drew would never say it aloud, it was the worst twenty-four hours of his life._

* * *

Back in the presence, Brock's wife-to-be gave him a sympathetic smile before turning to Gary and Misty. "If it's ok with you, Misty, do you mind if we skip to the 'I do' part?"

"Sure," Misty said, blushing embarrassedly. "You don't need to ask."

The bride nodded to Gary.

"So," he asked her, "do you take this lump head to be your husband? I mean, I know I'm off the market, but you've still got options."

She let out a trill of laughter. "Oh, I don't know," she wondered thoughtfully, smiling at Brock's desperate expression.

"You could mawwy me!" Dylan cut in from his comfortable spot in his mother's arms. Brock almost groaned aloud - first Gary hitting on his bride, and now his own godson was doing it.

"I could, couldn't I," she smiled, seeming to take the little boy's offer seriously. "But then where would that leave your Uncle Brock?"

"Ok, mawwy him," the little boy agreed after considering her question, "but only so he no sad."

"Seeing as Dylan's ok with it, I guess I will," she smiled.

"And you, Brock-o? You gonna put this lady into her misery?" Gary asked, turning to the groom now.

"Not my choice of words, but I will," he said sincerely, placing a quick kiss on her lips.

"Oi!" Gary yelled. "Did I say you could do that yet? No. You have to wait." He paused for almost ten minutes, ignoring the impatient looks on almost everyone's faces. "Right. Now by the power vested in my by Kanto regional government and the Pokémon League, I now pronounce you husband and wife. _Now_, you can kiss her."

Brock didn't need to be told twice, quickly swooping in to capture his wife's lips. "I love you, Brock Slate," she told him, tears welling in her eyes.

"I love you too, Mrs. Slate," he responded, a smile engulfing his whole face. For a day that had started off so wrong, he couldn't have dreamed of a more perfect ending. It had been eight years in the making, and now here they were – man and wife.

Maybe it would be forever. Maybe it would end in tears. Maybe it was all down hill from here. No one knew how it would end, but it hardly mattered today of all days.

FIN


End file.
